


Overture

by Raven_Song



Series: Star Wars Oneshots [5]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Ben is a piano major, Ben is colorblind, Everyone is a music major, Finn is a music theory major, Fluff, Han is a carpenter, Hux is a conducting major, Inspired by Music, Leia fundraises for the symphony, Luke's Jedi Temple was actually a music school, Multi, Not Beta Read, Phasma is a cello major, Poe is a classical guitar major, Rey has synesthesia, Rey is a voice major, Rose is a music ed major, Slow Burn, Soft Ben Solo, Some Plot, Stormpilot, listen i'm a music nerd, so many music terms I'm so sorry, this is my chance to rave about classical music
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:00:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24066244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raven_Song/pseuds/Raven_Song
Summary: Based off of a tumblr postMoody piano major Ben Solo meets and befriends the transfer student, a voice major named Rey. Only, they both have a secret. You see, Ben is colorblind. Rey has synesthesia.I suck at summaries, but this is a self-indulgent Music Uni AU
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Finn, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Series: Star Wars Oneshots [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1601797
Comments: 9
Kudos: 14





	1. Nocturnes, L 91: Nuages—Claude Debussy

**Author's Note:**

> This is a little fluffy fic in these strange covid times, cause we all need more of that. It's going to be several chapters, each inspired by a piece of music that I love. I hope you enjoy this soft sweet story ^^
> 
> Unbeta'd, so all mistakes are my own. And I think this goes without saying, but I highly recommend listening to each piece!

There are about a hundred things Ben Solo should be doing on a Friday night. He should be studying for a theory exam—serialism is a pain, and he would very much like to travel back in time to tell Arnold Schoenburg to kiss his ass—but Professor Stephens is nothing but fair, and they’ve been going over the lesson for a week and a half. It’ll be fine. Theory tests always are. He should be practicing—it’s a rare three day weekend and for the first time in months there are actually open practice rooms since everyone has vacated the college to head home or to the coast. He should be in the library, gathering resources for a research paper.

Instead, Ben is at a dingy dive bar with his friends, sipping an Old Fashioned and trying not to grimace at the ‘musicians’ performing the open mic night. He knows that he has a reputation for being pretentious when it comes to music, but any random person can tell that this girl’s dream is to perform on the Voice with her bland and personality-less rendition of some pop song that makes Ben want to die.

His childhood friend, Poe Dameron, is performing later in the lineup. Poe was his only friend when he started at Coruscant University. Then Ben had met Armie and Phasma, and finally found his group in the department. 

Being the social butterfly that he is, Dameron rounded up the entire gang to come out and support him.

Poe’s boyfriend, Finn Williams, is here with his easy smile and loud laughter. Finn is a Composition major, which means that Ben only ever sees him at parties and at two am in a practice room surrounded by cans of Red Bull and sheet music. He’s a nice guy, even if it seems as though he doesn’t trust Ben as far as he can throw him. That’s fine. Ben’s used to it.

Rose Tico is there, too, the tiny spitfire of a Music Ed major. Ben likes Rose. She’s got a good heart and a stern voice, perfect for teaching recorders to fourth graders. She wears a lot of floral dresses and almost always has a tuning fork stuck into her messy bun. Out of all of their friends, Rose is the first to call Ben out on being a sullen idiot, and that alone means that Ben trusts her with his life.

Gwen Phasma, cellist extraordinaire, and Armie Hux the Conducting major are here two. They’re Ben’s friends from freshman year, and somehow they meld seamlessly into Poe’s buddies. Gwen is a terrifying woman. She won the state cello competition all four years of high school, and she’s already being scouted by the top orchestras. She’s stern and towers over everyone. Ben isn’t used to being shorter than anyone. But she has a secret soft side, mostly for Ben and Armie whom she treats like her brothers. 

Armie is the only person in the music department more uptight than Ben. He takes conducting extremely seriously, relishing in breaking in a particularly ornery orchestra. Tonight he’s actually relaxed a little, showing up in a t-shirt and blazer rather than his usual dress shirt and tie.

And then there’s Rey Johnson. Rey, who transferred in the middle of junior year only to take the music department by storm. Rey, the girl with freckles and captivating eyes and a smile so bright it’s hard to look at. Rey, who surprised everyone with her powerful voice at their first recital. Once he’d noticed her it was hard to stop noticing her. They had almost all of their classes together, and once she found her way into Poe’s friend group that was it. Ben sees her at every movie night, every party. Hell, they even end up at the coffee shop in the campus center together every Tuesday and Thursday mornings. Ben can’t escape Rey. Not that he wants too, of course. He is inexplicably drawn to her. She scares him and entrances him in equal measure, and Ben Solo is caught in her spell.

She’s the real reason he’s here. Poe had asked him to come, of course. But it was Rey’s pouting face that actually made Ben say yes. To distract himself from the horrendous noise that could hardly be called music, Ben was watching Rey down her fourth Tom Collins (of course a girl as bright as the sun would drink alcoholic lemonade). She had dabbed glitter onto her cheekbones tonight, her face shining under the lights.

“I need some air,” she announces, wobbling as she gets to her feet. Immediately, four pairs of hands reach out to steady her.

“Careful, peanut,” Finn cautions. She waves away his concern.

“I’m fine.” 

“It’s okay, I’ll go with her,” Ben tells Finn, setting down his empty glass and crossing to Rey with one stride. His hand is at the small of her back, steadying her as they duck out the side door and step onto the patio.

It’s a nice night. Only a couple clouds, not enough to block out the sky, drift aimlessly. The sun is just setting, and it’s warm enough that Rey seems comfortable in her sundress. She tilts her head back, taking a deep breath. The pale glow of the streetlights catches on the glitter until she shimmers in the twilight. 

Ben tries not to stare at her. He’s been doing this a lot, recently. It’s enough of a problem that he finds himself getting distracted in their History of Baroque class. In his defense, it’s hard to focus on Handel when the most gorgeous woman he’s ever seen in his life is sitting two seats away from him.

Inside, the raucous strains of country music strike up. Ben cringes. He’s never been a banjo kinda guy. He leans against the railing next to Rey and does his best to ignore the twanging intro to some god awful folk tune.

“It’s so beautiful.” It takes Ben a moment to realize Rey has said something. He was too busy watching her and tuning out the band.

“What is?” he asks, sincerely hoping she isn’t talking about the music.

Rey nods at the sunset. “The sky. It’s gorgeous tonight.”

Ben glances over. There’s a couple of clouds illuminated by the sun’s dying rays, some people enjoying an evening stroll. But he wouldn’t call it beautiful, per se. He finds beauty in symmetry. Order. This sunset is anything but. Nice, he supposes, but not beautiful.

“I guess.” Rey shoots him an incredulous look.

“Wow, Solo. I knew you were one of those tortured musician types, but even you have to admit that there are nice things in the world.”

“There are nice things in the world,” he protests. “A quality performance of _La Campanella_ , a perfectly tuned orchestra, a steak dinner. Sunsets have never been my thing.”

She rolls her eyes at him.

“You’re a knob.” That garners a smile from him. Ben simply shrugs nonchalantly.

“So I’m told.”

“You really don’t like sunsets? I mean, look at it. The sky is orange, and the way the sun hits the clouds they turn the prettiest shade of pink. It’s beautiful.”

Ben shrugs. “If you say so.”

“Yeah, I do say so. God, why are you so glum all the time?” Ben turns to her, heat rising in his cheeks. The nerve of her!

“I’m not glum!”

“You kind of are, Solo.” Her arms are crossed across her chest, head tilted as she levels her challenging gaze on him. It’s one of the many things he likes about her. Rey never backs down. In the end, it’s Ben who gives in.

“Whatever.” He turns away, but Rey grabs him by the arm and forces him to face her.

“You’re not getting out of this so easily. You never answered my question.”

“You asked several. Which one did you want an answer to?” Rey cocks her head, considering.

“Why don’t you like sunsets?”

“I don’t _not_ like sunsets,” he tells her, annoyance surging.

“That’s not a proper answer.”

“You want a real answer? I don’t like sunsets because I can’t see them, Rey! There. Are you happy?” When he pulls out of her grasp she lets him go. He leans against the railing with a sigh. He knew he shouldn’t have come to this. He’s not the best with people. 

To his shock, Rey leans next to him. Slowly, as though he’s an animal who will spook if approached too quickly. When she speaks, it’s so quiet Ben almost misses it.

“What do you mean, you can’t see them?”

“The colors. I can’t see them.” Now that he’s told part of the truth, the rest of it comes rushing out. “I’m colorblind. Have been my whole life. So to me, everything is black or white or shades of grey in between.”

Silence falls between them, but surprisingly it doesn’t feel tense or uncomfortable. Instead it feels thoughtful.

“Is that why you always wear black?” Ben barks out an incredulous laugh at that. Of all the questions Rey could have asked him, that was not one he expected.

“Yeah, actually. That way I don’t have to worry about colors clashing and being totally unaware.” Rey smiles at him, a little shy, but radiant.

“ _Nuages_.”

Ben blinks in surprise. “What?”

“The Debussy piece. _Nuages_. That’s what the sky looks like tonight.” He stares at her. He knows the piece, of course. They had studied it in music theory last semester. It’s an Impressionist piece, of course, so that means French turn-of-the-century. Distantly, Ben remembers the title translates to ‘clouds.’

“How did you figure that one out?” Now it’s Rey’s turn to be awkward. She twists the bracelets on her wrist, unable to look Ben in the eyes.

“I didn’t. Not exactly. But you told me your secret. It’s only fair I share one of mine.” Rey blows a strand of hair out of her face. “I have synesthesia.”

Ben knows what it is, of course. Every musician does. It’s a condition that about four percent of the population have where when their brain receives input from one of the senses, it’s simultaneously perceived by multiple. Everyone knows someone who has it and are extremely jealous of those who do.

“So, you see colors when you hear music?” he blurts out. “That’s amazing!” Rey blushes.

“It’s really not that interesting,” she murmurs. “It’s just a part of me.”

“Why haven’t you told anyone?”

“Because I know how it goes. If people know, they’ll pester me with questions about it. ‘Does that mean you have perfect pitch?’ ‘That must make the aural exam really easy.’ ‘Can you tell me what color this song is? How about this one?’” She groans. “Been there, done that. It’s exhausting.”

Ben winces. Being peppered with questions isn’t his favorite, either. Especially given his family. But there’s no way he’s bringing that up right now. Rey actually treats him like his own person and it’s—nice. He doesn’t have to live up to stuffy expectations. He can just be Ben.

“Well, your secret is safe with me, Rey.” He winks at her. She grins back.

“So is yours, Ben.”

Inside the bar, the country song comes to a blissful end. Applause roars in its wake, startling Ben out of this strange but undeniably pleasant moment he’s found himself in. It jars Rey, too, and she steps away from him, looking through the open door.

“Looks like Poe is next,” she says. “We should head back in.”

“Yeah.” But neither of them move. Ben doesn’t know why, but he doesn’t want this to end. He hasn’t been this transparent with anyone, well, ever. There’s something liberating about telling Rey his secret. He wonders if she feels the same way.

There’s so much he doesn’t know about her. What her family is like, where she grew up, why she’s pursuing music. Hell, he doesn’t even know her favorite piece. That’s the first question music majors swap when they meet each other, either that or they silently hand over snacks to console a weeping classmate.

It’s only when the MC announces the next performer “Poe Dameron!” that they find the courage to move. They settle back at the table with their friends, sharing a small smile as Poe strums a chord on his guitar with his roguish smile.

It’s easy to fall into the old patterns of banter after that. Poe’s a damn good guitarist, and his singing isn’t half bad, either. When the night comes to an end and they walk back to their various apartments and dorm rooms, Ben finds himself light. Almost giddy. He laughs at one of Finn’s jokes, teases Hux for being a pretentious bastard and he can’t stop himself from smiling at Rey.

She catches him smiling, but she doesn’t scowl or look away. No, she lights up and positively _beams_ at him. Of all of his friends to learn his secret, Ben is glad it was her.

After a round of goodbyes and a chorus of ‘see you on Monday,’ he’s finally alone in his room. Ben tosses his jacket onto the back of his chair carelessly and reaches for his laptop. His fingers fly over the keys. When he finds what he’s looking for he grabs his headphones—high quality noise cancelling ones—and presses play.

The gentle woodwinds of _Nuages_ fills his ears. It’s light music, soft and sweet. Ben leans back in his bed, resting his head against the wall as the nocturne washes over him. It’s indistinct—one of the markers of Impressionist music—and therefore not something Ben would usually be drawn to. He likes structure and order. And yet this piece whisks him into a world of clouds and sunlight and freckled cheeks sprinkled with shimmer.

Ben can’t stop listening to the piece after that night.


	2. The Hebrides Op 26 (Fingal’s Cave)—Felix Mendelssohn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben’s thumbs hover over the screen. He knows that Rey is like him, that she needs quiet to work. It’s only logical that he invites her to join him. The library is silent, and it would be nice to have someone around. After all, Armie had told him so as he and Gwen left for a concert downtown.
> 
> _Go be friendly, Solo._
> 
> _I am friendly,_ Ben had wanted to growl. _Just not with everyone._ But Rey isn’t everyone. Before his courage fails, he types out the reply and hits send.
> 
> Ben: **Want to come study with me? It’s a lot quieter.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long! My motivation to write has been sapped by being an essential worker during this pandemic. Hopefully, I can start posting these semi-regularly. 
> 
> If you haven't listened to this piece, I highly recommend. It's perfect rainy day to put on in the background while you work.
> 
> Thank you as always for reading! I hope you enjoy my self-indulgent story.

It’s a drizzly, dreary day. Everyone else has been moaning about the weather, annoyed that all of the weekend beach trips have been ruined. Ben can’t help but laugh to himself. After years of his life spent on a storm-battered island with only his uncle and a few other students as company, the drizzle is nothing like the dreadful storms he knows. Still, it’s a perfect opportunity to get in some studying. 

People tend to avoid the library. Ben doesn’t understand why. It’s his favorite building on campus—a gothic behemoth of a structure that’s surprisingly warm and welcoming once you get through the massive doors. The reading room looks less like a library and more like a cathedral with vaulted ceilings and stunning vintage light fixtures. It’s always felt like passing into another time, another world, even. But Ben needs a space a little more quiet than the reading room.

He passes through, silent as a ghost, shuffling past the few other opportunists hunched over their books and laptops. Once he’s past the reading room, it’s up an ostentatious flight of stairs to the second floor. There, in the back right corner, is the place where Ben knows he won’t be bothered—the music library. Walls lined with volumes on all eras and practices of music. There’s even a section with old record players and hundreds of vinyls to listen to. The CDs are an aisle over.

He ends up settling in his favorite corner of the music library. Massive armchairs stand in front of a roaring fire and he . His notes and textbooks are scattered across the low coffee table in front of him, haphazard piles teetering precariously next to stacks of CDs and records still tucked into their protective sleeves. An empty coffee cup is abandoned at the edge of Ben’s little world. He really should go get another—he can feel himself drooping with exhaustion—but he’s gotten into a writing groove and getting up would mean disturbing it.

As if on cue, his phone buzzes. A glance at the screen shows that it’s Rey. Ben’s heart does a strange little flutter that he chalks up to the extreme levels of caffeine in his system as he reaches for his phone.

Rey: _hey Ben_

Ben: **Hey yourself. What’s up?**

Rey: _where r u_

Ben: **Researching in the library. What about you?**

Rey: _trying to write a paper at Javawocky_

Rey: _there are a bunch of poli sci majors debating loudly :(_

Ben’s thumbs hover over the screen. He knows that Rey is like him, that she needs quiet to work. It’s only logical that he invites her to join him. The library is silent, and it would be nice to have someone around. After all, Armie had told him so as he and Gwen left for a concert downtown.

_Go be friendly, Solo._

_I am friendly,_ Ben had wanted to growl. _Just not with everyone._ But Rey isn’t everyone. Before his courage fails, he types out the reply and hits send.

Ben: **Want to come study with me? It’s a lot quieter.**

Rey: _u sure? I’m probably going to be talking through my essay out loud_

Ben: **I don’t mind. I’ve taken over the coziest corner of the music library. As in, my stuff is everywhere. Company would be nice.**

Rey: _UR A SAINT i’ll bring u coffee as thanks_

Ben: **I’m in the music library by the fire. I never say no to free coffee.**

Ben smiles when the thumbs up emoji pops up on his screen. He doesn’t use emojis—hates them, in fact—but whenever Rey sends him one it cheers him up immensely. She uses emojis like they’re a second language, as natural to her as breathing. It should annoy Ben to no end, but it doesn’t. Funny, how that happens.

Waiting, he finds, is something he’s not good at. He can almost hear Luke’s voice rasping in annoyance. _Focus, Ben. Patience is a pianist’s best tool. You need to breathe. Let the music flow through you._

But Ben is awful at sitting still, and his mind is too scattered to hold onto any train of thought for long. Instead of slogging on with his essay, Ben tidies his space up. Well, only a little—he only stacks his papers and pulls his belongings closer to his own chair. If Rey is going to study, she needs a space to set her work down. Ben can’t exactly hog the entire table.

When Rey finally shows up ten minutes later, she’s holding two cups of coffee and her hair is plastered to her face. She isn’t wearing a rain jacket, which Ben thinks is a little strange given the deluge outside. Her tattered Converse look even worse for wear. There’s no way that can be comfortable.

Despite looking like a drowned cat, she beams at him when her eyes find his across the room. She holds up the coffees with a delighted grin as she approaches.

“You’re soaked,” Ben observes, taking his coffee from her and cupping it gratefully. The warmth against his palms is nice. A sip proves that it’s a dark roast with a dash of hazelnut creamer. He’s surprised and touched that Rey remembered what his order is.

“Yeah. It’s raining. I don’t mind, though. I grew up in the desert. The rain is nice.” Rey rarely volunteers information about her childhood. Not exactly like Ben is an open book either, but he files the information away for future use. She takes in his setup, eyes scanning over the mess Ben has created. “You look like you’ve been having fun.”

Ben groans. “I have a research paper due for 20th Century on Tuesday.” Rey wrinkles her nose.

“I’ve heard stories about that class. Isn’t the professor kind of awful? What’s his name again? Snoke?”

“He’s not so bad,” Ben argues. “He’s just very strict. Most people don’t appreciate 20th century composers, and they’re his passion.”

Dr. Anthony Snoke is one of the most controversial professors in the music department. On the one hand, he’s incredibly knowledgeable about 20th century composers, on the other, he’s known for his short temper and having favorites. Ben is one of Snoke’s favorites. He knows he is. Whenever Snoke holds office hours, Ben is there for the entire time. Snoke has become more than just a professor. He’s a mentor. Yeah, the guy isn’t perfect. Who is? Now, though, Ben always feels uncomfortable when people criticize the man.

“So he’s defensive.” Rey flops down in the chair nearest to the fire, stretching her hands towards the flames. “You two should get along splendidly.” Ben narrows his eyes. Whatever Rey is implying it turns his stomach.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” Rey smiles innocently.

Ben quickly changes the subject away from his mentor. “What are you working on, anyway?” She rummages through her bag before dropping a weighty textbook onto the table. Ben squints at the title, trying to make sense of it. “Multicultural Music Throughout the Ages?”

“It’s a music and anthro class,” she explains. “Diverse Perspectives in Music. Basically, we study music from different cultures and discuss how music traditions work. We studied African music, Asian music, Native American music and now we’re working on music from the Balkans.”

“You make it sound like that’s a bad thing.”

Rey hesitates before answering, and when she does it’s careful. Hesitant. “It’s just, this professor. She’s adjunct.” 

Ben understands. Coruscant University has a phenomenal music program, but the adjunct faculty are notoriously awful. Unlike the tenured professors, the adjunct are more strict with their requirements and vague with their lesson plans. Not bad people, just bad at teaching.

“So what exactly are you working on?” Rey sighs.

“She has this requirement that everyone has to go to two cultural music events and then write an essay on them. She suggested we go to a festival, a drum circle, dance class, or even a gig at a bar. And it frustrates me that she would expect that we’re all able to go to an event halfway across the city. There are students in the class who are underage so they can’t go to bars, not everyone has access to a car and public transportation can only do so much. Not to mention the money. We’re college students, does she really think I’d choose going to a concert over buying groceries?”

“And this is actually a requirement she has?” Ben asks, horrified. Rey nods grimly.

“Yep. Two of these events per semester. I think it’s bollocks, so I’m writing my paper on the orchestra concert last night out of spite.”

Ben smirks. He knows a thing or two about spite. It’s a powerful motivator. Has been his entire life. Most of his greatest accomplishments have been fueled by spite. It’s fitting really that it fuels Rey, too.

“Well, let me know if you need any help with your spite-fueled essay.” She grins at him, quick and wild.

“Will do.”

Ben has always been a solitary kind of guy. Back at his uncle’s academy, the other students had bullied him mercilessly. They laughed at his big ears, his teenage awkwardness, his sullen nature. They told him he had no talent, that he was only there because his uncle owned the academy. It wasn’t the truth—Ben had always been a talented pianist, but the blows still hurt. He’d much rather spend some time on his own rather than with other people. There’s less of a chance of getting hurt again.

But that’s not the case with Rey. Her presence is a balm to him. Whenever she’s around Ben lowers his defenses, relaxes into some semblance of normal. God, he doesn’t even know what normal looks like any more.

He’s supposed to be studying. He should... do that.

Ben tries to focus on his notes, but his eyes are constantly pulled back to Rey. Rey, who’s biting her lip as she struggles to find something in her textbook. It’s something she does when she focuses. She twirls her hair when she’s bored and drums her fingers when she’s impatient. Ben is startled to realize that he’s noticed all of Rey’s little habits.

She looks up and catches him staring at her. Ben can feel his ears flush, grateful that his hair is hiding them from view. Rey tilts her head with a smile.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Ben shakes his head. “Just thinking.”

“About what?” Shit. He hadn’t actually thought she would ask. He scrambled for an excuse, looking frantically around the room to find something, _anything,_ he can use to get out of this situation. When his eyes finally land on the window, he sees his lifeline.

“I was wondering what the weather looks like.” Rey frowns at him, turning in her chair to look out the window.

“Rainy, Ben. It looks rainy.”

“No, that’s not what I meant.” He cringes. Fuck, why does he have to be so awkward? “I was just thinking that I don’t really know what a rainy day looks like color-wise, you know? I know that trees are green and storm clouds are grey, but that kind of means nothing for me.”

Rey relaxes a little and it takes all of Ben’s self control to not sigh in relief. “Oh. Um, yeah. I keep forgetting that you know about my thing.” Ben raises an eyebrow and now it’s Rey’s turn to blush. “You know what I mean.” _Synesthesia,_ she mouths dramatically.

“Well?” Ben prods. She looks out the window again, considering the rain streaking down the glass.

“ _The Hebrides,_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you tell that Rey's professor's bogus requirements are based off of an actual class I took? Every paper I wrote for that professor was 100% fueled by spite.
> 
> As always, comments and kudos feed this poor writer's soul and give me the motivation to write more! Thank you so much for reading ^^


End file.
